these are not butterflies
by fiesa
Summary: Yona has imagined it very, very differently. Drabble/Introspection, post-ep to ch. 137 – Yona (Hak). Spoilers.


**these are not butterflies**

 _Summary: Yona has imagined it very, very differently. Drabble/Introspection, post-ep to ch. 137 – Yona (Hak). Spoilers._

 _Warning: If you haven't read the chapter, don't read this. Drabble, introspection._

 _Set: post-ep to ch. 137._

 _Disclaimer: Standards apply._

 _A/N: !1!1!One!1!_

* * *

Yona has imagined it very, very differently.

Flowers. Sweets. The soft sound of a koto, the scent of lotus and water and wind from the gardens drifting through the paper screen doors. The last birds singing in the warmth of dusk. Darkness, soft and silvery, hiding from prying eyes and granting – well, at least the illusion of - privacy. A man on his knees, handsome features and soulful eyes, whispered praise to her beauty – yes, her beauty, _especially_ to her hideously red hair. A gift, presented with utter worship. Sweet words and a charming smile, maybe a poem or two. And she would have accepted the gifts and the praise shyly, would have fluttered her eye lashes and hidden her maidenly blush behind her fan, and her coy glances would have been all the encouragement she would not give with her lips. There would be a song in her heart, and butterflies in her stomach.

In short:

Court romance, fairytale-style.

Instead, she gets:

Hak's eyes are so terribly, painfully desperate, his denial so clear in every fiber of his body; it is very obvious despite the wide cloak and its drawn hood. His hands are clenched, as if he wished he was carrying his quandao and able to swing it at someone – _anyone_ – anyone who stood between them and Xing. Anyone who stood between her and him, because if anything during the past months of travel and time (and Heavens, has it really been this long since she set foot into the real world?), Yona has learned _this_ : her bodyguard's loyalty is absolute. And now he is agreeing to let her go because he trusts her, because he believes he taught her enough to protect herself. Still, everything in his expression is screaming his refusal to let her go _anywhere_ without him, let her out of his sight and out of his reach when she might need him. And... it _hurts_. The pain in his face hurts her in a way she never had thought possible. His worry and fear – for her, and she does not deserve it, has never earned it, never will – is written on his face so clearly it breaks her heart.

So she drags him down by his cloak and kisses him.

It is silly. It is unreasonable. It is a terribly stupid idea, because when she closes her eyes now she will forever see his stupefied expression, his complete lack of understanding. It is the worst idea in the whole, wide kingdom, because now she will forever remember the feel of his lips on hers: unmoving as they were, but still carrying the ghost of warmth and familiarity and _home_. It is impossible, really, because _how?_ How can it be just one person, just this person, stupid, silly Hak who teases her and annoys her and orders her around, Hak who has never done anything to make her fall like that, Hak, who laughed at her when she fumbled and grinned when she made a mistake and who smiled so beautifully when she won the archery competition and who blamed himself for her getting hurt, Hak, who throws himself into every fight and every quarrel to protect her, who does not care for his own safety as long as she is safe; Hak, who would rather leave his home and his family than endanger her. How can it be that she thinks she would give anything, anything at all, to watch him laugh that brightly and carefree again? That she thinks, _I want to be strong,_ not because she wants to fight Soo-Won or protect Kouka's citizens, but because she wants to be able to stand at his side proudly without him having to risk his own life to protect hers?

These are not butterflies in her stomach. Definitely not.

But it is there: the feeling that she finally, _finally_ , has come home. It comes with a realization of a quite different kind, or perhaps it is the same.

 _I love Hak._

Silly. She always knew _that_ much, at least. She loves Hak, of course, but not in _that_ way, right? It is not as if she wants flowers and poems and sweet words from him, because she knows that just is not the way Hak is. That was the way Soo-Won had been, before everything went down, giving her gifts and complimenting her hair and smiling so handsomely in the light of the lanterns. Hak is more like, _Princess, wasn't that a stupid idea of yours again, and why do you need a lantern if your hair is bright enough to be used as a beacon?_ Soo-Won might have been starlight and romance and words sweet enough to cause a blush. Hak is the scent of beeswax used to wax her bowstring, the sound of rain on the tent roof on a dark night, the laughter of children playing outside, climbing all over him. Hak is the sensation of strength that rocks through her when she thinks she cannot go on anymore. Hak is the lovingly mocking voice when she is behaving stupidly.

Hak is her guiding star, her firelight. Her home –

 _Oh, come on, Yona, stop waxing nonsense like a silly court lady!_

She should not be thinking of this.

There is a war to stop, a man's intentions to learn, five friends (plus Ao) to rescue and meet again. There is a clan that is waiting for their leader's word, and a princess who relies on all of them. There is a visit to complete, as fast as possible, because as little as Hak wants to be separated from her (because he still sees it as his duty to protect her from all harm that might befall her, bless him, but suddenly that is not _enough_ ) Yona wants to be separated from him.

 _So there goes your first kiss,_ she realizes, belatedly, already storming from Ogi's house as fast as her legs can carry her. It makes her want to laugh. It makes her want to sing. It makes her want to cry, too, because Hak's expression – _No. No time for this now. Get your act together. Everyone relies on you._ She suppresses the weird, fluttering feeling in her stomach as she follows Min-Soo to the carriage. Somehow, it feels as if her heart has turned into a flock of birds, tearing her into different directions at the same time. Sometimes also in the same direction. It is pretty clear what it means.

Hak relies on her, and Ki-Jae, Shin-Ah, Jae-Ha, Zeno and Yoon.

Maybe, that is her greatest motivation: Yona just wants her friends back. _All_ of them. Including one stupid, overly protective bodyguard, butterflies or birds or whatever be damned.


End file.
